The weight in my arms should have been unbearable.
Eighty pounds of steel-plated dragon, unconscious and limp, pressing against my chest as I carried Gible back through the terrarium.
My arms should have been shaking. My legs should have been straining. I should have been gasping for breath after the first fifty meters.
But I wasn't.
I walked steadily, almost casually, as if Gible weighed no more than a backpack full of textbooks. My breathing was even. My arms weren't trembling. The weight felt... manageable. Natural, even.
'How am I doing this?'
I looked down at my arms—Gary's arms. Thin. No muscle definition. No calluses from weight training. Just the lanky build of a seventeen-year-old who'd spent more time with books than barbells.
This body shouldn't be able to carry 80 pounds for more than a few minutes without severe strain.
Hell, based on my physique, I'd be struggling with fifty pounds.
But here I was, walking through the terrarium like Gible weighed nothing.
'Is it the system?' I wondered, adjusting my grip slightly. 'Some passive enhancement I didn't notice? Or is it the bond with Gible? Does sharing a connection with a Pokémon somehow make trainers stronger?'
The thought was unsettling. In the games, trainers were just trainers. They gave commands, threw Pokéballs, but they weren't physically enhanced. They were normal humans managing supernatural creatures.
But this wasn't a game anymore.
'Or maybe it's Extreme Mode,' I thought, remembering Steve's explanation in the white void. 'He said this timeline was different. Harder. Maybe trainers in this world are naturally stronger to compensate for the increased danger.'
I filed the observation away as I approached the terrarium entrance.
Whatever the reason, I wasn't complaining. Being able to carry my injured partner without collapsing was definitely a benefit.
But there was something else nagging at me. Something that didn't make sense.
Scale Shot.
I pulled up the system notification again, reading it as I walked:
[GIBLE learned SCALE SHOT through battle experience!]
[Type: Dragon]
Scale Shot was a Generation 8 move. I knew this because I'd spent thousands of hours studying Pokémon games and memorizing move lists. Scale Shot had been introduced in Sword and Shield—Gen 8.
But Professor Oak had confirmed that only Generation 1 through 4 Pokémon existed in this world. Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh. Four regions. Four hundred ninety-three Pokémon. That was it.
So how the hell did Gible learn a Gen 8 move?
'Unless...'
The thought crystallized as I pushed through the terrarium's main doors into the estate's corridors.
'Unless Oak is wrong.'
If Scale Shot existed as a move—if Gible could learn it, use it, make it manifest in physical reality—then the Pokémon that naturally learned that move had to exist somewhere.
The mechanics had to exist. The biological framework that allowed for scale-launching Dragon-type attacks had to be part of this world's fundamental structure.
Which meant Generation 5 through 8 Pokémon must be out there somewhere.
They were undiscovered.
'There are entire regions out there,' I realized, my pace slowing as the implications hit me. 'Continents that haven't been explored yet. Unova. Kalos. Alola. Galar. Maybe even Paldea. They're all out there somewhere, waiting to be found.'
And if those regions existed, that meant hundreds more Pokémon. Entire evolutionary lines. New types, new abilities, new possibilities.
'Is that what Extreme Mode means?' I wondered. 'Not just harder battles and higher stakes, but a world that's bigger than anyone realizes? A world where the previous system user might have come from one of these undiscovered regions?'
The thought was both exciting and terrifying.
I made my way to the elevator and pressed the button with my elbow. I stepped through the door and into Professor Oak's laboratory.
Professor Oak looked up from where he'd been preparing medical equipment, his expression shifting from focused to concerned when he saw Gible's unconscious form.
"Set him on the examination table," Oak said, gesturing to a cushioned surface near his diagnostic equipment. "Carefully."
I moved toward the table, and that's when Elara's voice cut through the room.
"Wait." She was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Samael, how are you carrying that much weight so easily?"
I paused mid-step. "What do you mean?"
"Gible weighs eighty pounds," Elara said, walking closer with her tablet. "I documented it during the initial assessment. Eighty pounds of dense muscle and metallic scales. That's not a trivial amount of weight."
Oak had stopped what he was doing, looking at me with newfound attention. "She's right. Most seventeen-year-olds with your build would struggle to carry that much weight for more than a few minutes. But you've been carrying Gible for what, ten minutes? Across rough terrain? And you're not even breathing hard."
I looked down at Gible, then back at them. "I... honestly don't know. I noticed it too. It should be harder than this."
"May I?" Elara approached, professional curiosity overtaking her usual wariness. She reached out and gently pressed against my bicep, testing the muscle tone. "No significant development. Standard adolescent musculature. You haven't been doing strength training?"
"No," I confirmed. "I would have noticed the soreness."
Oak stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Fascinating. There are documented cases of trainers developing enhanced physical capabilities after bonding with their Pokémon, but those typically manifest after months or years of partnership. You've had Gible for barely three weeks."
"Could it be the bond?" I asked, carefully laying Gible on the examination table. The little dragon's breathing was steady, but the cracked scales and burns were clearly visible under the laboratory lights.
"Possibly," Oak said, moving to examine Gible more closely. "Or it could be something unique to the Prism Transformation. We don't understand the full scope of what happened when Gible changed. Perhaps the bond itself was altered at a fundamental level."
Elara was taking notes furiously. "We should run tests. Baseline strength assessment, endurance measurements, compare against standard human capability—"
"Later," Oak interrupted gently. "Right now, our priority is treating Gible."